Zoey's First Encounter
by you.are.the.thunder
Summary: A oneshot about Zoey's first encounter with the infected, and how she met the rest of the group. Please R&R, I appreciate it!


_I hate college,_ I thought to myself as I skimmed through my chemistry book. I hated this shit in high school, and I hated it now. I didn't care if my mother wanted me to be a vet, sick animals upset me, and I wanted to be a film maker anyway! _You know what? Screw it. _

I tossed my book across the room, where it hit my roommate's bed and bounced to the floor with a thud. Looking at the empty bed, I wondered where Harper had been lately. I hadn't left the dorm room in a good week and a half, and the whole time I'd either been sleeping or watching horror movies-so I couldn't exactly say I was the world's most observant person, but something did seem off.

And come to think of it, it'd been pretty quiet around here, especially for a college dorm. But being the generally chill person I am, I shrugged it off and popped in the DVD for my favorite horror movie of all time, _Dawn of the Dead. _About halfway through the film, I heard growling and..._clawing _outside my door. Pausing the movie to make sure it was real, and it definitely was.

Even though it was already 11 pm, the drunks weren't usually around until midnight at the earliest-and even then, it was only the mildly tipsy ones. Not the "drunk-off-their-ass, pretending to be animal" ones. After about 3 minutes, I decided to open the door. Y'know, let the poor guy crash in my room for the night. I got up, unlocked the door and opened up, fully prepared to find a drunk college guy. What I _wasn't_ prepared to find was a zombie.

Which is **exactly** what I found.

To be honest, I wasn't exactly sure it was a zombie at first. It didn't seem plausible, there were no such things as zombies, right? There was something wrong with him though. His skin was an unearthly shade of gray-green, and it was peeling back in several spots, showing the muscle underneath. His eyes were cold, like cloudy marbles, and there was blood around his mouth. I stood there dumbfounded and confused until he lunged at me.

That's when my survival instincts kicked in, and I grabbed the floor lamp next to me with one thought in mind from years of zombie movie training: _destroy the head. _ After a few good whacks, its decaying head flew off and hit the hallway wall where it exploded like an overripe melon. Ew.

Looking around the hall to make sure there weren't anymore zombies, I slammed the door shut, locked it, and jammed it with the long part of the lamp. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I saw blood splattered all over my face. "Well goddamn," I said to no one in particular. "I think I'm a killer." _Well, was I? _My stomach tensed up like it did when I feel guilty, and I went to rinse my face off in the bathroom. I had to get out of here, as soon as possible. Even with my knowledge of zombies, I couldn't survive in here forever.

I peeked through the curtains carefully to seek out possible escape routes, but I was only greeted by zombies. Hundreds of them, maybe even close to a thousand. _Oh, SHIT! _I belly-flopped onto my bed and covered my head with a huge stack of pillows. Maybe I was asleep. Maybe this would all go away in the morning. My attempts to wake up were interrupted by what I thought were gunshots outside. After a few minutes of trying to gain courage to look out the window again, the gunshots were still continuing. When I looked this time, I still saw the zombies, but there were 3 men shooting them in a true bad-ass fashion.

In a move that could've probably cost me my life, opened the window and stepped onto the small balcony. "Hello down there, can you hear me?" I shouted. Surprised to hear another voice, they all looked my way. "What's yer name, stranger?" the older looking man in army gear shouted back. "I'm Zoey, and I don't know what's going on." "Are you infected?" "Infected with _what_?" I yelled back, coming off a bit more brash than I thought. "I'm not a zombie, if that's what you mean." The three discussed for a few seconds, probably the longest seconds of my life. "Okay," the angry looking biker man shouted up. "Can you gather some things up and meet us down here?" I nodded and grabbed my purse, which had general items I'd need for now, then carefully climbed down to the street. When the biker guy pointed a gun near me, I was about to freak out. "Zoey, don't move," he instructed, pulling the trigger and killing a zombie behind me.

"Oh my gosh, thank you," I gushed. "Don't mention it," he replied gruffly as the man in army gear lead us to a small room protected by a thick metal door with bars over it's window. "This is a safe room," he explained. "Let's get comfy for the night and then we can explain what's going on, alright?" I nodded and plopped my purse down next to a pile of ammo and some big guns. I found some rolled up sleeping bags in a closet, and handed them out. Once we were all settled, I was introduced to the men-Bill, Francis and Louis. They explained to me all about the green flu and special infected before we went to sleep, which lead Louis to joke that this was like telling me a fucked-up bedtime story.

Before I drifted off to sleep, my mind was racing. I didn't know if any of my family was alive, or what. I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind and tried to think of happier thoughts when Francis' gritty voice cut through my mind. "Hey, Zoey?" "Yeah?" I rolled over to face him. He smirked. "Welcome to the profession of zombie killing." I thanked him and rolled back over, starting to ease into sleep.

"Zoey Anne Mason, zombie killer," I mouthed to myself with a small smile. It wasn't film-making, but it sounded **much** better to me than being a veterinarian ever would.


End file.
